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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222284">watch the world crumble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbecca/pseuds/sapphicbecca'>sapphicbecca</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>EDIT: no longer completely canon compliant as as mag 190, F/F, Post-MAG 160, and of course. the admiral is here, but i was pretty close, but it's just catching up w/ the girls! seeing what they've been up to since the world ended!, w/ spoilers through MAG 189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbecca/pseuds/sapphicbecca</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Georgie?” Melanie’s voice creeps high with fear, and for once, Georgie wishes she could feel afraid. She hates to leave Melanie alone like this, solitary in her fear. She searches desperately for words to soften the blow, but can’t find any that make the situation gentler or easier to face. “Georgie, please tell me what’s going on.”<br/>“I think…” Georgie hesitates, bites her bottom lip. Georgie is not afraid, but she is confused, and she is angry and upset and a million other feelings running tumultuous inside her that she’s never had to name before. “Melanie, I - I think the world just ended.” </p><p>- </p><p>The world ends. Melanie and Georgie figure out what comes next.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Georgie Barker/Melanie King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>watch the world crumble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello!!! </p><p>first of all: as always, a massive thank-you to hannah <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gauras">@gauras</a> for giving this a readover for me!! sending off my finished stuff for you to look over has genuinely become one of my favorite parts of finishing a fic! </p><p>a few quick content warnings: blood, canon-typical apocalypse imagery, esp in regards to the past few episodes &amp; descriptions of london, and very very vague mentions of past eye trauma (in melanie's case) </p><p>also: this was my first time writing a character who is blind, and though i did do my research beforehand, if there's anything incorrect/wrong just let me know!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  </p><p>Georgie has it handled.  </p><p>She had it handled when Melanie showed up at her doorstep seven months ago, distraught and terrified by the anger that had been so forcibly removed from her. She had it handled when she’d gotten the call from the hospital two months ago, telling her Melanie had finally managed to quit the Institute. And she has it handled now, as the ground rumbles underneath her, as the world changes with a crack of thunder, as the sky opens its eyes and stares down at the new world it is creating. </p><p>She’s finishing up recording some new sponsored segments for <em> What The Ghost? </em>when it happens. She hits the button to stop recording and slides her headphones off, figuring she’ll check in on Melanie before she starts editing and completely loses track of time for the rest of the day. As she opens the door, she hears a distant grumbling of thunder, but doesn’t think much of it, nor of the slight tremor beneath her feet. London is not known for its earthquakes, but, in the back of her mind, Georgie figures stranger things have happened. </p><p>She rounds the corner, headed towards the front room of her flat, where she last left Melanie napping on the couch with the Admiral, and stops dead in her tracks when she sees the room flooded with a thick reddish light. </p><p>Melanie is still sprawled out haphazardly on the couch, earbuds jammed in and cat laying on her stomach, but instead of being lit from behind by the soft golden light of the late afternoon, the whole room is cast in an awful shade of rust-red, growing stronger as Georgie watches, making the shadows longer and deeper, and the room almost unfamiliar, even hostile. </p><p>The curtains are open, and Georgie rushes over to look outside. As she reaches the couch, there is another tremor, more forceful, and Georgie is nearly knocked off-balance. </p><p>Melanie wakes with a start as well, tugging off her earbuds as thunder booms again, this time louder. “Georgie?” she calls, sitting up. </p><p>“Here,” Georgie says. She reaches over for Melanie’s hand. “I’m here.”</p><p>“What’s happening?” Melanie asks immediately. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Georgie answers, “I’m looking outside now, but I-” Georgie finally turns her gaze out the window, and her words stutter to a halt in her throat. </p><p>She is not looking at London. </p><p>There are still apartment buildings surrounding hers, but they are not the same buildings they were before, even though they still look almost identical. If she tries to really put her finger on it, she wouldn’t even be able to say what makes them different, other than that they are <em> off, </em>in some way, that the way they are existing now makes them somehow harder to look at. </p><p>(That, and every single apartment’s light is on, and the curtain pulled up, with a silhouette of a person standing and looking out. Even from this distance, Georgie swears she can see the whites of all of their eyes.)  </p><p>There is still a street running beneath them, but now it looks more like a river of hot tar than something anyone could dream to drive on, and it’s writhing, twisting and spreading over the streets. </p><p>There is still a sky above them, but - no. There isn’t, not really. The thing that used to be the sky is staring, eyes pointed everywhere except Georgie’s window, where she herself stands silhouetted to look out at the thing that used to be London. </p><p>And out in the skyline, there’s something rising in the distance. </p><p>“Fuck,” Georgie says. She closes the curtains. </p><p>“What’s <em> happening?” </em> Melanie asks again. She stands, displacing the Admiral, who meows in displeasure. </p><p>Georgie shakes her head slightly, and reaches back for Melanie, squeezes her hand. “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>“Georgie?” Melanie’s voice creeps high with fear, and for once, Georgie wishes she could feel afraid. She hates to leave Melanie alone like this, solitary in her fear. She searches desperately for words to soften the blow, but can’t find any that make the situation gentler or easier to face. “Georgie, please tell me what’s going on.” </p><p>“I think…” Georgie hesitates, bites her bottom lip. Georgie is not afraid, but she is confused, and she is angry and upset and a million other feelings running tumultuous inside her that she’s never had to name before. How do you begin to describe something like this to the one you love? How do you tell them that everything they’ve ever known is gone? “Melanie, I - I think the world just ended.” </p><p>Still, the words feel almost fake in her mouth. More than that, they feel <em> ridiculous. </em> Everything was perfectly fine fifteen minutes ago - it doesn’t make <em> sense </em>that the apocalypse would now suddenly be at their doorstep. </p><p>If Georgie had any nightmares but one these days, she would just think this to be a bad dream. But she knows her nightmares, and she knows she isn’t going to wake up.  </p><p>Before Melanie can say anything, there’s another rumble in the sky and a tremor beneath them, this one strong enough to knock them both off their feet. Now sprawled on Georgie’s crappy off-white carpet, Melanie crawls over and finds Georgie, surging into her arms as the thunder continues, gripping onto her with a terrified fervor that Georgie hasn’t seen in her for a long time. Georgie wraps her arms around Melanie as well, and doesn’t let go for a long, long time, as the world howls and moans, changing unwillingly around them. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think Jon had something to do with it?” Melanie asks some long amount of time later, as they lay entangled in a pile of blankets on the bed, the Admiral tucked in between them. There’s been no way to actually tell the time, if it’s been mere hours or entire days since the world ended. Neither of their cell phones or laptops will turn on, and all their other electronics have powered off as well. Even Georgie’s battery-powered alarm clock refuses to turn on, and she <em> knows </em>she just replaced those batteries last week. </p><p>Georgie blinks, and considers for a moment. “Maybe,” she says. </p><p>“Fucker,” Melanie mutters. </p><p>“You know more than me,” Georgie says. “Do <em> you </em>think he had something to do with it?” </p><p>“I mean - you said there’s eyes in the sky, and cameras crawling around, watching everything they can. That definitely fits his whole Archivist <em> vibe, </em>I guess.” Melanie wriggles slightly in the blankets, freeing a hand, and pats softly around the blankets until she locates the Admiral, and begins petting him softly. The Admiral purrs in response. “But we… we knew Elias was probably planning something. Planning to use Jon to do it, maybe, I - I don’t know. I always tried to stay out of the whole end-of-the-world thing, whenever it came up.” </p><p>“Which was good,” Georgie says, soothing. “You made the right choices when you were able to.” </p><p>Melanie just hums vaguely under her breath, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Her fingers float down to scratch absently at the old scar above her knee. </p><p>“Going off of that though… we do need to talk,” Georgie adds, sitting up. Melanie tilts her head towards her. </p><p>“Talk about what, exactly?” she asks, wary. </p><p>“Our choice,” Georgie says firmly. “Whether or not we’re going to get involved.” She leans over to take Melanie’s free hand in both of her own. “I know you did everything you could to get out of the archives and everything mixed up in them, and I am <em> so </em>proud of you for that, but staying out of it, it’s - it’s not going to be an option the same way it was before.” Georgie takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be a lot harder to not get involved in everything happening now, but if you really want to stay out of it, then, that’s fine, and I’ll be here with you for all of it.” </p><p>“Georgie…” Melanie squeezes her hands. “I don’t know if we actually have a choice here.”</p><p>“We do,” Georgie says firmly. “I mean, look at us. The world ended and we are still perfectly safe in this flat. If you want to ignore everything else and stay here forever, then - then, that is fine by me.” </p><p>“What about food,” Melanie says, her voice flat. </p><p>“I’ve got enough food to last us at least a few weeks. That’s enough time to figure out a plan to get more. Plus, I… haven’t really been hungry since the world ended.”</p><p>“Fine. What about water? Taking showers? I can’t imagine the plumbing in this building is functional anymore, or - or the electricity, for that matter.”</p><p>“We’d figure it out,” Georgie says. “We’d find whatever we needed. We don’t have to go outside yet. You don’t have to get involved again.” </p><p>Melanie hesitates for a long time, her one hand slack in Georgie’s grip, the other stilled in the Admiral’s fur. “No,” she finally says, “no, I - I don’t think I can do that.” </p><p>“It should be what you want,” Georgie reminds her. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything.” </p><p>“I <em> do </em> want to,” Melanie says, voice rising. “I mean - <em> Jesus, </em> of course, I want to. Pretty easy guess that Elias is behind all of this shit, and I’ve wanted to bring that bastard down since the day he hired me.” </p><p>“So… what do we do?” </p><p>“Look, if Jon’s out there, he’s probably going after Elias, too, and-” Melanie heaves out a big breath. “And I want in. If Elias is finally getting what he deserves, then I want to be there to help it happen.”</p><p>“So we find Jon,” Georgie says, just to be sure. </p><p>“You said you saw a tower, right? Odds are, that’s the Institute, or whatever’s left of it.” Melanie sits up as well. “I don’t know where else Jon would have ended up for something like this.” </p><p>“The Institute wasn’t too far from here,” Georgie considers. “Things have… probably changed, though.” </p><p>“We’ll need to pack,” Melanie agrees. </p><p>Georgie hums in agreement. “When do you want to get started?” </p><p>In response, Melanie kicks off her blankets. “I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep, anyway. Might as well just get it over with.”</p><p>So they pack. Georgie fishes through her cabinets for food that seems to have the longest shelf life, and grabs a few of the sharper kitchen knives as well. Melanie digs through the mess at the bottom of their closet and emerges grinning with a pair of intimidatingly clunky black boots, which Melanie says she always thought felt the most like they could “absolutely kick the <em> shit </em>out of someone.” </p><p>Georgie assumes the implied someone is Elias. </p><p>Melanie also grabs an oversized leather jacket and some already-ripped jeans; Georgie goes with a wool-lined denim coat and a jumper. Melanie ties her uneven orangey-red curls back in an attempt at a ponytail, and, unsurprisingly, multiple strands fall out to frame her face. Georgie <em> had </em>warned her, when they’d chopped Melanie’s hair to fall above just above her shoulders a few days after she quit, that she wasn’t very good at haircuts, but Melanie insisted, saying she was sure a shoddy haircut wouldn’t be the worst thing that had happened to her in the past few years. </p><p>Melanie takes her cane, and they both leave behind their phones. </p><p>They stuff most of their supplies in the biggest backpacks they own, not knowing how much walking they’ll be doing, and Georgie grabs an old messenger bag as well, to sling over her shoulders for the Admiral to ride along in. She can tell Melanie is worried about bringing him out into the literal apocalypse, but Georgie will be damned before she leaves her cat behind, even at the end of everything she’s ever known. </p><p>They leave the flat, and leave the door unlocked. The Admiral mews quietly in his bag as they walk down the hallway, and Georgie gives him a little scratch behind the ear. </p><p>“Lift or stairs?” Melanie asks, as they near the end of the hallway. Georgie turns to look at the lift, and for a moment, they both listen to the echoing clanks and groans coming from behind its closed doors. Georgie looks up to see the floor numbers above it spinning wildly. </p><p>“Stairs,” Georgie decides immediately, and Melanie nods in agreement. </p><p>They descend carefully. The world around them still thunders and shakes, and more than once they have to grip the railing and wait out the latest tremors. </p><p>When they finally make it to the lobby and walk out the front doors, the pavement is warm but solid underneath their feet. They cross the empty street, and have just made it to the other side when, behind them, the whole building begins to shudder and rumble, thunderous and echoing around the otherwise silent streets. Georgie turns sharply and then watches, transfixed, as it seems to vibrate, almost echoing around itself, and as all the lights in the flats turn on, and the shades rise up in the windows. With a final groan, it settles, now indistinguishable from the rest of the buildings on the block, with someone staring down from every single window. </p><p>“Georgie?” Melanie’s voice rises in alarm. </p><p>“Um,” Georgie says. “Uh, the apartment building, it - I think it’s like all the other buildings, now.”</p><p>“Right,” Melanie says, her voice strung out in the way that Georgie has come to realize means she’s freaked out but still trying to keep her cool. She’s gone pale under her freckles, too, which Georgie thinks means she’s probably grateful that they decided to bring the Admiral after all. “And it wasn’t like the other buildings before?” </p><p>“I guess it was waiting for us to get out,” Georgie says, trying to tear her eyes from the nightmare that used to be her home.</p><p>“Right,” Melanie says again. She slowly slides the tip of her cane over the sidewalk. “Well. Moving on, then.”</p><p>“Moving on,” Georgie echoes, turning away. </p><p>“Come on, Barker.” Melanie offers a strained smile and her hand. “Lead the way.”</p><p>Georgie smiles and takes Melanie’s hand, starting them down the street, headed towards the looming tower. </p><p> </p><p>The first street they turn onto is completely covered in blood, the road shining and slick. Georgie wrinkles her nose as the stench of iron rises, and Melanie pauses beside her, boots stumbling into a crimson puddle. </p><p>“Oh, god, Georgie, what’s that - that smell, and why does the street feel-?” </p><p>“It’s fine,” Georgie says quickly, tugging at Melanie’s hand and trying to lead her to where the layer of blood seems the thinnest. “Don’t worry about it, we just have to-” </p><p>Melanie stops in her tracks, and Georgie nearly slips in the blood as she tries to take another step forward. “Don’t <em> do </em>that,” Melanie says, fingers tightening around her cane. </p><p>“Do what?” </p><p>“Try to - try to <em> protect </em> me, or whatever, just because I can’t see what’s happening. Tell me what you actually <em> see, </em>Georgie.” </p><p>“I-” Georgie purses her lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You just - you can’t keep me out of the loop to try to make things easier for me,” Melanie says. “That’s not fair for either of us, so, just -  please tell me exactly what’s happening.” </p><p>“Of course,” Georgie says. She looks around to take in the full view. “You’re smelling blood - not mine or yours, the street is just covered in it. I don’t know where it came from. Those camera things are here, too, and they’re all looking pretty much everywhere except us, even though this street’s empty besides us and them.” </p><p>“What do they look like?” Melanie asks. Georgie hesitates. </p><p>“Do you really want to know?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yes.”  </em>
</p><p>“Alright! They’re - I mean, they look like normal cameras at first - paparazzi, almost? But all clumped together and flashing, and either glued up on the street or drifting around us down here. There’s also-” Georgie grimaces. “I don’t know. You look at them closer, and they start to look more <em> alive, </em>I guess. Fleshy, in a way?” </p><p>“Gross,” Melanie mutters, and Georgie chuckles softly, the tension falling out of her shoulders. She squeezes Melanie’s hand gently and gives a little tug. </p><p>“Come on,” she says, stepping forward, “I’ll try to lead you around the bigger puddles.” </p><p>Melanie makes a face. “Gee, thanks.”</p><p>They keep walking. </p><p> </p><p>They keep walking, and this is <em> not </em>London. That’s all Georgie can think as they pass by the looming buildings and clicking cameras, the open-eyed silhouettes in the windows who look everywhere but her and Melanie. </p><p>Sometimes they pass real people, too. Georgie doesn’t know how she’s able to tell the real people from the ones who just exist as part of this new reality, but what she does know is that it’s becoming more and more clear that she and Melanie are the exception in this terrible new world, clear that others were not spared the ability to realize the apocalypse or the choice of what to do about it. </p><p>The first time they came across others, they were exhilarated and relieved to find others who were living through the apocalypse as they were, but it only took a few failed attempts to speak to them to slowly understand what was actually occurring. Now Georgie’s seen the way people are terrified of the cameras and of the eyes of the not-quite-people on the streets, seen the way others are horrified by the attention of the whole world on their shoulders, and other things, too. She keeps up a low running commentary to Melanie, explaining what she needs to. She doesn’t go into detail on the various tortured souls they pass unless Melanie presses for more information, and promises to say if they walk past anyone she recognizes. </p><p>They try to talk about other things, and Melanie divulges a few theories she’s been able to devise since the world ended, but mostly there is nothing else to say but to see what is around them. Even the Admiral lays quiet in his bag, not a single purr to be heard. </p><p>The thing in the distance that is now fully a tower looms over them, growing closer and closer with every step they take. </p><p> </p><p>If Georgie had to guess, she’d say the walk took maybe three hours. It could have been shorter - maybe it was only a half-hour. Could have been longer, too - perhaps she spent a week traipsing past the deepest nightmares of people she’d never met. </p><p>“We’re here,” Georgie announces, as they stand a few meters from the base of the tower. Melanie’s free hand reaches over and grabs her upper arm. </p><p>“What’s it look like?” </p><p>“Er - reflective, to be honest. A bit like a dark mirror. Some sort of stone, or - or maybe just glass. I can’t tell.” </p><p>“Okay, yeah, but - is there, y’know, a door anywhere? Any way to enter the tower of nightmares that<em> used </em>to just be my shitty job?” </p><p>Georgie takes a long, hard look. “No. No, there is not.” </p><p>“Fantastic.” Melanie groans. “Just really brilliant. Awesome.” </p><p>“Maybe it’s on the other side?” Georgie suggests. </p><p>“Maybe,” Melanie says. </p><p>They do a lap around the tower. It takes either fifteen minutes or a whole day. There is no door. Georgie tells her this. </p><p>“Fuck <em> off,” </em> Melanie says. She slumps down and sits against the base of the tower, shrugging her backpack off in the same motion. She folds her cane with a swift <em> click! </em>and crosses her arms in a rather over-dramatic manner. </p><p>Some distracted little voice in the back of Georgie’s mind can’t help but think that she looks cute like this, even now, and so she takes a moment to just look at Melanie, instead of looking at everything else around them that is so very wrong. </p><p>Melanie’s somehow got a bit of dirt smudged on her face, to start. Her mouth is set in a straight line, and her hair is even more of a mess than when they left the flat. Her head is tilted up, facing the staring sky. A week before the end of the world, Melanie’s wounds had finally been healed enough to stop needing the bandages over her eyes, so now her scars are exposed to the city’s stale air, and Georgie is relieved to see how well they’ve healed so far. She hopes they get the chance to heal further. </p><p>Georgie hesitates for a moment longer, then sits beside Melanie, shrugging off her own backpack and pulling the Admiral out of his bag and onto her lap. He blinks at her and then snuggles into her jacket, and she pets him gently, giving him those little scratches behind the ears that he likes so much. “There could be another way in.” </p><p>Melanie snorts derisively. “I don’t really think this is exactly a Rapunzel’s tower situation.” She slumps even further down to make her point, then stills for a moment, and sits up straight. <em> “Oh. </em> Uh, actually-” </p><p>Georgie turns her head sharply. “What?”</p><p>“We could try to find the tunnels,” Melanie says. </p><p> “What tunnels?”</p><p>“The, y’know - the tunnels, under the Institute?” Melanie waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the ground. “I swear I told you about them.” </p><p>Georgie doesn’t even bother to feel surprised. “There were tunnels under the Institute?” </p><p>“Yes, well.” Melanie blows a puff of air through her teeth. “We used them a lot. They messed with Elias’ connection, or whatever, so he couldn’t spy on us if we were down there.” </p><p>“And you think they might still be there?” </p><p>Melanie shrugs. “I don’t see why not. <em> We’re </em>still here, after all. Technically.” </p><p>“Technic-? Oh, Melanie, <em> please </em>don’t start with that again.” </p><p>“What? I’m just saying, there’s no proof we all actually <em> survived </em> the end of the world. This could <em> very </em>easily just be some fucked-up version of hell.” </p><p>“I think I’d know if I died- if <em> we </em>had died,” Georgie argues. </p><p>“You’ve seen some of the people being tortured here,” Melanie bites back. “You told me what you saw. Is that really any state of living?” </p><p>Georgie doesn’t have a reply to that, so she just sets her jaw and stares straight ahead. Melanie sighs and leans her head against the wall. </p><p>“I’m not saying we, we have to <em> do </em> anything about it,” she says, “just that we should <em> acknowledge </em>the possibility, be prepared for it in case it comes up, or whatever.” </p><p>“Fine,” Georgie says. “Possibility acknowledged. Now, do you have any idea where an entrance to the tunnels might be?” </p><p>“If we’re lucky?” Melanie gives a little <em> hm. </em> “There’s an outdoor entrance. Normally we just went in through this trapdoor in the archives, but - I mean, it’s clearly all different now, anyway.” </p><p>“But it’d be near this tower?” </p><p>“Don’t know where else they’d be.” </p><p>“Right.” Georgie stands and places the Admiral in Melanie’s lap. “You stay here with the Admiral. I’ll go take a look around and come get you if I find anything.” </p><p>“No? We’re not-” Melanie scoops up the cat and gets to her feet as well. “We’re <em> not </em>doing that, splitting up. I’m coming with you.” She sticks her hand out stubbornly and waits for Georgie to take it. </p><p>Georgie knows when not to even bother picking a fight with Melanie, so she sighs and approaches. “I’m taking the cat first,” she says, warning Melanie before she lifts the Admiral up out of her arms and then plops him snugly into the messenger bag. Melanie unfolds her cane and then Georgie takes her hand, and together they begin to wander in the area around the tower. It’s mostly places to enter other streets of horrors, but there are also little alleyways, dark corners where something could be hiding. </p><p>In the end, it’s Melanie who manages to find the trapdoor. She stops instantly as she slides her cane ahead of her when they poke into one of the shadowy alleys, and Georgie stops too. </p><p>“What’s up?” </p><p>“There’s something different about this part of the ground,” Melanie mutters. She gives it a tap with her cane, and the sound reverberates, clearly hollow underneath. Georgie crouches and starts brushing away the dirt and debris to reveal a thin slit in the ground. </p><p>“Trapdoor,” Georgie says, suddenly excited. She digs her fingernails in and slowly manages to pry it open with a heavy <em> creak. </em>The door lifts up and falls to the other side with a loud crash, and Georgie and Melanie both wince. </p><p>“What’s beneath it?” Melanie asks immediately, and Georgie leans over to peer in. </p><p>“It’s dark,” she says, “but if I had to bet, I’d definitely say those are the tunnels we’re looking for.” </p><p>The drop down isn’t too far, so Georgie climbs in first, drops their bags, and then helps Melanie down, holding her carefully by the waist. She decides to leave the trapdoor open for now. Melanie thanks her with a smile, and the Admiral hops out of his discarded bag and weaves around their feet, meowing softly. </p><p>“You’re right, Admiral,” Georgie says, “we should check this place out. I think we’ll just take a short break to sit down first, yeah?”</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Melanie says. They both sit on the hard stone floor, and the Admiral walks over and curls up in Melanie’s lap. She breathes out a laugh, and starts petting him slowly, and Georgie’s heart has never stopped stuttering at the sight of them like this, even now in the dim lighting of the tunnels. </p><p>Georgie blinks, and remembers she actually has a torch packed somewhere in her backpack. She zips it open and rummages through food packets, extra clothes, and a pocket knife before locating it at the bottom of the bag. She takes it out and clicks it on. </p><p>“Torch,” Georgie explains when she catches Melanie turning towards the sound and raising an eyebrow. Melanie nods. </p><p>“Can you see anything that might help - where the tunnels lead, or…?” </p><p>Georgie shines the torch down both ends of the hallway. “Seems to just go in one straight direction here - no branching paths or crossroads at the moment. Just solid stone floor, brick walls… nothing’s really standing out.” </p><p>“Hm.” Melanie’s hands still for a moment. “That sounds about right. I’m sure if we start walking it'll get a lot less simple. The tunnels under the Institute were basically a maze.” </p><p>“Lovely,” Georgie says. Melanie snorts. </p><p>“With <em> no </em> help from Helen, by the way,” Melanie adds. She shakes her head slightly, as if recalling a funny memory. “Wonder what she’s up these days.” </p><p>Georgie shifts slightly on the uncomfortable stone floor. She’s never been quite sure what to say whenever the topic of conversation veered towards those Melanie befriended in the archives - she’s met Basira and Martin, of course, but they were human, for the most part. Georgie’s gotten a few descriptions of Helen, and was able to come to the very rational conclusion that humanity was something she definitely didn’t have anymore. </p><p>“Sure she’s around here somewhere,” Georgie finally says. She pauses. “If we ran into her… do you think she’d help us?” </p><p>Melanie hesitates for a long time. “I… I don’t know,” she admits. “She did help me, and Jon, more than a few times back in the archives, but… I think it might’ve always helped her out in the end, too. At least in some way.” </p><p>“So, we probably shouldn’t trust her,” Georgie says. </p><p>“I… don’t know,” Melanie repeats. “I mean - she always said she was my friend, and I believed her, for the most part. Jon never did, I don’t think, but he - he wasn’t always right about things, you know?” Her hands fidget slightly and she begins to draw in on herself. Georgie decides to drop it. </p><p>“I think there actually might be a turn in the path up ahead,” Georgie says. “Whenever you’re ready, maybe we head that way. See where it takes us.” </p><p>“Fine by me,” Melanie says. </p><p>They sit a moment longer before packing back up. Georgie puts the Admiral back in his bag, though he goes less willingly, letting his feelings known with an indignant <em> mrrph.  </em></p><p>As usual, Melanie holds her cane in one hand and Georgie’s hand in the other, and together they slowly make their way through the dark and musty corridors. </p><p>Like in the city above, time has no meaning here, and Georgie does not know how long they explore the tunnels and call out the names of the people they used to know. It is hours, at least. They do find other doors that lead to different parts of London, even one that’s even closer to the tower than the one they used to enter. They do not find any other people, or a way into the tower. </p><p>After turning a corner to find themselves at a three-way crossroads, Georgie informing Melanie of what lies in front of them, it’s a mutual decision to take a break, to at least slide down on the floor and just sit. They’re quiet for a long while, and so are the tunnels, so there is nothing but silence for just as long. </p><p>“No Jon, then,” Georgie finally says. </p><p>“No Jon,” Melanie mutters. “Whatever. We don’t need him.” </p><p>“No, we don’t,” Georgie agrees. She rubs at her eyes. “What else can we do, though?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Melanie says. She picks at a loose string on her jeans. “You packed those granola bars, right?” </p><p>“The ones with chocolate? Yeah, I grabbed a few. Are you hungry?” </p><p>“I - maybe. I think I should be, but I just - I just want something to do for a minute.”</p><p>Georgie nods in slight agreement, and digs through her bag to find the granola bars, and then hands one to Melanie once she digs them up. She takes one for herself, too. </p><p>For a moment, Melanie seems focused on unwrapping the granola bar and eating it slowly, and Georgie mirrors her. A minute or two after finishing, Melanie lifts up her head, turns to where Georgie is crinkling the wrapper in her hands. </p><p>“Do you think it’s just me and you?” she asks bluntly. “Just only us who managed to dodge this, through some weird, shitty luck?” </p><p>Georgie sighs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “It’s a possibility.”</p><p>“Like, Jon was pretty involved with the Eye,” Melanie says, “but if this was somehow just Elias and not him, then, I don’t know. He could be trapped somewhere like everyone else. So could Basira, and Martin. They were all <em> involved, </em> so it could - it <em> could </em>just be us.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Georgie says. She doesn’t want to consider this possibility either. </p><p>“I mean, if I’m right about why we weren’t affected here, that logic doesn’t carry over to the rest of them, you know?” Melanie’s always talked with her hands, and now they are agitated, moving fast to emphasize her point. “So, this is pretty obviously all Elias’ fault, and he’s super into that fear stuff, which you can’t feel and, which I left when I had my very dramatic break-up of quitting the archives, so-” Melanie takes a big breath. “Somehow, we’re lucky enough to not get involved, and to be together.”</p><p>Georgie can’t help but smile a little. “We are lucky to be together,” she says, scooting closer to Melanie so their shoulders bump. Melanie scoffs, but Georgie knows her well enough to spot the flustered fondness underneath. </p><p>“Not exactly what I meant, but, yes.” Melanie tangles her fingers with Georgie’s and drops her head onto Georgie’s shoulder. “I am very lucky to have you here with me.” </p><p>“And I you,” Georgie says, dropping a kiss on Melanie’s cheek. Melanie just hums and tucks her face further into Georgie’s neck, and they fall quiet again. </p><p>This quiet is lighter, though, in a way that makes Georgie realize just how heavy all the other silences were. It’s easier to breathe, now, in this horrible underground tunnel. It’s easier to pretend for a moment that they might actually be okay. </p><p>A few moments later, Melanie shifts slightly, her nose poking cold against Georgie’s skin. “Do you think we could, y’know - try to help other people?” she asks, her voice anxious and a little muffled. “Since we’re both clearly exempt from this whole thing, and - you know, maybe we could help. Get them out of whatever nightmare they’re reliving every day.” </p><p>“We could try,” Georgie says. “Do you want to?” </p><p>“I do,” Melanie says. “It’s not fair that we’re the only ones who get to have this freedom.” </p><p>“Alright,” Georgie says. “Let’s do it.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello again and thank you for reading!! </p><p>title is from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2Db90T16NxFtJyqiICooVu">i watch the world burn all i think about is you</a> by bastille! which was coincidentally my number 1 song for 2020 according to spotify </p><p>if you'd like to watch me post about how much i love melanie king, you can find me on tumblr <a href="https://thirteenthdyke.tumblr.com">@thirteenthdyke</a>!</p><p>you can also find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/lesbophone">twitter</a><br/>or you can check out my very in-progress <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/569pqIS47XH5xoA1KEbFp3">melanie king + wtgfs playlist </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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